


A Mephistophelian Devotion

by beastlybat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Gore, Brutal Murder, M/M, Minor canon divergence, Pining, Praise Kink, Season/Series 14, Sensory Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22175701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beastlybat/pseuds/beastlybat
Summary: Nick is convinced he is nothing without Lucifer. Desperation to feel Lucifer wound tightly around him again sets him on an impossible mission. He manages to pull Lucifer from The Empty before anyone can find or stop him, and their reunion is everything he had hoped it be.
Relationships: Lucifer/Nick (Supernatural)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 46
Collections: SPN Kink Bingo 2020, SPN Lucifer Bingo





	1. Sacrament

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend for this to become a two chapter fic, but here we are. As always, the trash was beta'd by dooms. Bless her. This chapter fulfills the Nickifer square on my SPN Lucifer Bingo card. Lots of lovesick, serial killer Nick here. Have fun and if you want more of my trash, you can find me on Tumblr at americxnwoman.

Nick didn't know when allowing his body to be used as Lucifer's vessel had become something more than a quick fix for the numbness that settled the inside of him after the brutal loss of his family. 

Lucifer had enticed him with the promise of being unique, _special_. He'd needed that sense of purpose, needed some sliver of meaning in this hideous and irrational world that had taken his wife and child from him. Lucifer had promised to give him that. He'd promised to make Nick forget all of it: the needling grief, the bitter regret, the blinding rage, and even the all-consuming guilt over not feeling more. Because, even then, he'd known something was off with the way he'd felt in the aftermath of their murders. With Lucifer, he'd be able to forget Sarah and Teddy altogether...There'd be no sorrow.

When Lucifer had gotten what he'd needed from Nick, all he could seem to do was fixate on getting to his true vessel. It'd hurt. From day one, it had hurt to be told that he was precious and important only to then be referenced to as a backup plan, a temporary residence. To be pushed aside, largely ignored.

Nick resented Sam Winchester long before Lucifer had even met the boy. Resented him simply because he existed. Because he was better than Nick. Sam Winchester was perfect and Nick...Nick was grotesquely flawed.

He told himself it didn't matter. It didn't matter that while, sure, it was rare that anyone could hold Lucifer without having their insides liquefied instantaneously and he happened to be one of the lucky few, he was still being burned through. Nick wasn't enough. He was going to die, but that was okay because at least the hollow feeling was finally gone...

Hell hadn't been what Nick expected. His closeness with Lucifer, no matter the brevity of it, resulted in his soul being spared a fair share of due torment. It was still Hell and he was its prisoner, but at least Hell felt familiar.

It was warped and wrong in fundamental ways that didn't match the fractured memories that Lucifer had let slip during Nick's time serving him. Even still, it was like an echo of the archangel lingered around him. Judging from the inhuman screams in the the distance, his fate could have been a lot worse; one more way that Lucifer had improved his sorry excuse for existence. 

And then came his own personal miracle. Nick was remade. And it didn't matter that he was brought back to life by those who wanted to keep Lucifer caged within Nick's flesh, because he was whole again and had been forged stronger. He could shelter Lucifer now without those awful sores returning, without holding Lucifer back. Even better, their captors had made it all permanent. Lucifer would break out of this captivity sooner rather than later and they both knew it, but maybe he wouldn't try to unlock the binding on his vessel. Maybe he'd stay with Nick. Just maybe.

As soon as they were alone, Lucifer smiled, slow and sinister, into the empty chamber, "Welcome back to the party, Nick..."

His whole being hummed with euphoria. Had he imagined it or had there been a fondness in Lucifer's tone?

Nick had been given another chance and he was going to do his damnedest to be better, to be enough.

Things were different the second time around.

Without Lucifer being hyper-focused on his role in a coming apocalypse and his complicated relationship with Michael or determined to get Sam to say 'yes' since he now had the option of using Nick as a permanent vessel, Lucifer started taking more notice of Nick.

Before they'd been a bit like oil and water inside Nick's head. They were both there and were aware of the other, but they'd never really communicated except by accident. A simple slip usually caused by Lucifer being overwhelmed by something.

Now, they were more...blended. He'd occasionally experience Lucifer's thoughts and feelings as if they were his own instead of in bits and pieces and he had no doubts that he had always been a completely open book to Lucifer. 

The first time everything had blurred together in a dull but constant vibration that coursed through his bones, this time he could identify the different sensations for what they were. It was intoxicating and Nick found himself staying at the forefront of their conscious more often than not.

When the archangel blade pierced his body, it didn't just take Lucifer from him. It scrambled his recollection of their time together, leaving Nick feeling flayed and profoundly confused. As his memories started to stitch themselves together, he had to experience the anguish of losing his wife and son all over again. Only this time he didn't have an easy way out. There was no way to escape the pain or the guilt. He thought maybe if he could just find the person responsible for their deaths, it would all stop. Then he could move on—without the _needling_ feeling of inadequacy of not having been able to protect them.

Killing Artie hadn't been part of the plan. Not originally, but the more they talked, the more Artie kept evading him and denying him the information he needed to enact justice on the monster responsible for tearing his family from him.... something simply clicked. Crushing the man he'd once called a neighbor's throat beneath his fingers sent a shockwave of power through him, heady and undeniable. The next thing he knew the hammer was in his hands and Artie's skull was in fragments; jagged and sharp, and protruding at odd angles.

And it left Nick feeling...good. Inexplicably _good_.

He knew it was wrong...enjoying the thrill that killing gave him... He should have moved on. Let go. Lived a mundane existence for the rest of his days until it was time for his soul to return to Hell. But he couldn't. He couldn't fight it.

There was a magnetic pull bringing him closer to Lucifer, inch by inch. He thought if he could unravel the truth behind his family's murders, he'd be able to get rid of the urge to inflict the same agony he felt back on others. The blood Nick left in his wake only spurred him down the path, carrying him back to where he didn't know he belonged. In trying to get away, he only nurtured that bond between him and the devil.

That need for revenge was perverted somewhere along the way into a general itch and he began hurting strangers. These people had no connection to the deaths of Sarah and Teddy, but he needed to overpower them completely. He _needed_ to feel the untouchable strength that came with taking life, with reveling in the act of pure destruction. He was plagued by fantasies of splitting people open, watching the light fade from their eyes in abject terror, and painting the darkness inside of himself with their blood. He tried to resist. Nick tried so hard. But it was rapidly becoming a compulsion and he was helpless against it. How was he supposed to fight the one thing that made him feel alive?

Finally, Nick gave up the act. He stopped trying to resist what he was, what Lucifer had made of him, of what he'd always been. He _liked_ it; craved the power and the destruction and the absolute high that came from both. He prayed.

Nick begged on his knees for Lucifer to return to him, to help him the way he had all those years ago. He prayed and prayed until his legs went numb and his invocation was nothing more than mindless blubbering. 

Without receiving an answer, Nick did all that he could do. He continued his hunt for retribution by sniffing out the demon who'd killed Sarah and Teddy.

Abraxas brought unexpected answers. Unexpected, but not in the least bit surprising if Nick was honest with himself. Lucifer was a master strategist. Of course, he'd been behind everything, and maybe the demon was right. Maybe it had all been random. He hadn't been special. Everything had been coincidental.

And that was okay. Because that was then and now, he knew things had changed and that he meant something, even if that something had been ripped from him. He could stomach all of it. What he couldn't take was perfect, coveted Sam Winchester and his moral high ground crap trying to make Nick's actions relate back to him somehow. That was more than he could stand. Sam was always trying to take from him, and he was sick of letting it happen. 

He left the hospital and fled to where it had all started, his home in Delaware. He knew it was irrational, but he'd needed to feel closer to Lucifer, to be told where to go next. He'd gotten his family's justice. What else was there? 

A group of demons found him that night, loyalists to Lucifer who were quick to provide Nick with answers and he was equally as quick to agree to their plans of action. After coming home to feel the wicked chill and that first glance of his wife's ghost.... She’d made him confront the reality of his being. He was nothing without Lucifer. The devil had left a deep and irreparable mark on him and Nick had wanted it, had always wanted it. Nothing he'd done had ever really been about the loss of Sarah or Teddy. He wasn't even sure if he'd ever felt the kind of grief a husband and father should have felt over their death, not really. But now that he had help, he had hope. He had purpose.

The way the demons looked at him was unsettling at first. It made sense, he supposed. Lucifer was basically their God and he'd spent more time in Lucifer's presence than any of them ever had. He found himself empathizing with them. They understood what had been lost.

It was easy to give them what they obviously needed, to play the part of their missing Father. Nick didn't quite have the bravado for it, but he knew exactly how Lucifer would behave. He'd seen Lucifer's vision of Hell. He knew how Lucifer wanted it to be, how he wanted to be around the demons under his thrall. If he tried hard enough, he could buy into the fantasy alongside the demon loyalist; however, the thought that Lucifer might punish him for this twisted mockery made him tremble.

Nick didn't know what day it was. It didn't matter. It was late. He knew that much.

The demons had him holed up in some condemned house. He was careful to watch where he stepped as he paced back and forth and back and forth, wary of the rotted wood floor potentially giving way underfoot.

He was hot beyond reason. There was a fever that had settled itself beneath his skin and had been growing slowly ever since Lucifer had been burned out of him by Dean Winchester. It was a hideous reminder of how isolated from Lucifer's grace he was. Nick ripped his shirt off, balling it up and throwing it across the room with an angry howl. Tomorrow they'd get their hands on the prophet. Tomorrow, if all went to plan and it would because it had to, Nick would finally, finally get to hear Lucifer again. He'd know what to do, how to fix things.

When one of the demons came to check on him, alerted by the noise, Nick plunged forward. His hand was slick before the demon realized that he'd stabbed its meatsuit. It was foolish to bite the hand that feeds, but whatever. He needed to feel closer to Lucifer and this was the only way he knew how.


	2. Absolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fulfills the Praise Kink square on my SPN Lucifer Bingo card and the Sensory Deprivation square for my SPN Kink Bingo card. And that really sums up this chapter, haha. It's exactly what it says on the tin and you are welcome.

Nick did his best to keep his hands from trembling with a sense of urgency as he began the ritual Lucifer had taught him. This was the single most important act of Nick's life and he couldn't afford to mess it up. His swollen nose blurred the inner edges of his vision and his head was on fire, but neither of those things even registered to him as he sank to his knees inside that circle of salt. He sliced his hand deeper than was probably necessary but the dig of the blade was oddly consoling and there was some primal part of him who wanted his blood to be a more substantial ingredient in Lucifer's resurrection than his son's. He made sure the cut would pour.

Tears were already welling up as he stumbled over the pronunciation of the spell. This had to work. He _had_ to be with Lucifer again. He _had_ to do everything right. 

He hadn't been prepared for it to happen instantaneously. In no time at all—he'd barely even finished the last word—a tear into The Empty was forming, growing rapidly. Nick froze. All he could do was stare. The darkness seemed to congeal, taking shape and his heart clenched impossibly tight as the archangel began to take form.

"Lucifer," The name fell from his lips in exhalation and the responding flex of molten darkness in the shape of his wings had Nick's heart pounding.

"I'm here," He declared, soft and awed, "I'm ready."

Lucifer reached out for him and the well of tears began to flow freely, stinging the fresh wounds on Nick's face.

"Your vessel, your  _ perfect _ vessel. Make me strong again,  _ make me you _ ." Nick pleaded with eyes closed, lost to the prospect of feeling whole again.

He could hear Lucifer move toward him; could feel the cold radiating off of his mercurial form as he joined Nick inside the barrier of salt. Nick quivered, waiting for Lucifer to slip inside of him and fill him with radiating light. But it never came. Instead, Lucifer spoke.

"What's your rush? You've done well, Nick... So well... Let's enjoy the moment."

Lucifer's recognition paired with the promise of what was to come—what Lucifer seemed to be offering to _him—_ pulled a broken groan from Nick.

"Yes," He drew out the word in moan, "Please. Let me show you, I'll be so good for you."

His nerve-endings came alive as his numbing loneliness finally began to melt away. But he had expected to hear the sharp ringing of Lucifer's true voice, not the borrowed voice of Sarah and his lust-hazed mind took a moment to register it.

Confused, he opened his eyes to find his wife's small figure kneeling on the ground in front of him, body bracketed by his open thighs.

"You've earned it." The purr was unmistakably Lucifer, but he found that he couldn't look at Sarah. Not now. This wasn't about her!

"Not her." A plea. 

Her head tilted to the side as Lucifer studied him. The longer Lucifer stared, not speaking, the more Nick began to regret having said anything at all. He braced for Lucifer to morph into the only other form Nick knew of. He'd rather see Sarah than to have Sam Winchester's face ruin this for him. 

To his surprise, Sarah melted away only to reveal a mirrored image of Nick's own face. Blood rushed to his cock and it gave a feeble twitch in interest.

Seeing the way Nick's pupils expanded at the change, Lucifer wasted no time. He surged forward, running his hands up Nick's spread legs, breathing against the other's lips, "My perfect vessel, was it? Let's see about that..."

Lucifer's touch was inconsistent—feather-light one moment and crushing the next—as they continued their journey up to push at Nick's shirt and expose the bruised skin beneath. His form kept shifting, melting away in places to reveal the grip The Empty still held on him. Light peaked out where the distortion was greatest. If the sensation was causing Lucifer any discomfort, he didn't show it.

Instead, he pulled the bloodied white shirt from Nick's body and tossed it aside. The ever-changing wings curled forward in a protective gesture around the two of them. The nails of his double dug into the back of Nick's neck as Lucifer palmed him through his jeans, Nick hardening at the touch. The relief it gave him was short lived as Lucifer pulled his hands away to press firmly against Nick's torso, pushing him flat against the floor. His wings flexed backward so as not to get in the way and Nick found himself wishing he could see them for what they were instead of malformed and dripping with the darkness of The Empty.

Lucifer's face was still so close, nuzzling against Nick's hair, kissing into the crook of his neck. He mouthed at every inch of skin that could easily be reached. Nick wanted to grab him, pull him closer so that no space was left between them. At the same time, he was terrified that his hands would phase right through the body of his double. If that happened....then who was to say this wasn't all just a pathetic delusion his broken mind had created to protect him from the harsh reality that he'd never truly feel Lucifer's presence within him again. 

Against his ear the pitch of his own voice urged him to close his eyes. Lucifer's powers were weaker, volatile with his tether to The Empty still present and the frequency in which that blazing light spilled from its false flesh shelter was steadily increasing. It was dangerous. He could get an eyeful of true angel form accidentally and it seemed like Lucifer wasn't all that keen on dissolving Nick's beautiful blue eyes.

He didn't understand why the archangel wouldn't just take him as his vessel already so that he was safely anchored, but Nick was in no state to deny Lucifer anything. He did as he was told, squeezing them shut. Flickers of light danced behind his eyelids and it was strangely comforting, a reminder that Lucifer actually was there with him.

"You've proven yourself worthy of being my vessel, Nick. Mine." A territorial growl as a hand stroked fondly through his hair and blunt nails scrape ever so gently down his neck causing goosebumps to form over the expanse of Nick's entire body, "And I take care of what's mine. I protect it. You want that again, don't you? You want to be mine forever?"

Nick, despite his best efforts, couldn't find the words to respond. He nodded rapidly and arched up in search of more contact without any concern for his dignity. Lucifer had hardly touched him and yet he was already impossibly hard and leaking precum. He was long past the point of caring how his actions were perceived. There was no hiding how impatient and needy he was feeling. There'd never been any hiding from Lucifer.

"Your unforgiving blood-lust? Mine. Your pent up rage? Mine. Your unwavering devotion? Mine." 

Nick squeezed his eyes so tightly shut to keep from crying again and he wasn't sure if the floating spots he was experiencing were from the archangel's light or if it was his own doing. Lucifer's form was still struggling to remain solid. He could feel the constant shift in the way the angel's hand skittered along his arm, pressing it against the floorboards unnecessarily. Nick hadn't been brave enough to move his arms once, his blunt nails dug into the wood and if he wasn't more careful, he was going to give himself splinters.

"You like being mine, don't you? Haven't you missed me? Missed the way I make you feel powerful and without shame?"

Nick squirmed and whined, rocking his hips in a desperate search for friction but Lucifer kept himself just out of reach despite Nick's wordless begging for more. He grinned wickedly against Nick's lips. But Nick wanted,  _ needed _ so much more. He wanted to feel Lucifer's Grace cradling him from within, wanted to feel complete. All he gets is more teasing. With his eyes being forced shut, every kiss, every bite, every tender caress sets him on fire. As if in response to this line of thought, a sudden stream of cold breath is blown across his collarbone extracting a choked sob from Nick. 

"I know, it's okay." Lucifer placated, shushing him and nudging Nick's face with his own. Stubble scraped painfully against the open cuts on his cheek. "I know you have. I know and you did so well bringing me back to you." 

Lucifer's icy grip possessively closed around Nick's throat as a stark juxtaposition of his soothing tone. Nick gasped in response and it comes out as a raspy and exhilarated sound that only spurs Lucifer onward.

"Makes me feel proud, ya know? Owning something so exceptional. So good."

Nick trembled at the insistence that he belonged to Lucifer, that he had made Lucifer proud. He was caught up in the picture Lucifer was skillfully painting with his honeyed words that he didn't even notice that the angel had undone his jeans until much later. His focus is wholly on Lucifer's words and the trail his mouth left as he slid slowly down Nick's torso, nipping at the skin between words until it was angry and red. 

"You listened so absolutely, followed my instructions perfectly. But how obedient can you be?" Lucifer pulled at his underwear, freeing Nick's aching cock only to blow out another puff of cold air. Nick is fairly certain the noise he makes in response is inhuman, perhaps made possible by whatever Grace still lingers inside of him.

Lucifer moved back up his body quickly to whisper into his ear, "Show me. Touch yourself, Nick." And Nick moved to oblige immediately, spreading precum over his palm and fingers.

"There you go. Nice and rough." Lucifer encouraged, his forehead pressing into Nick's shoulder, head angled down as he watched the movements of Nick's hand. "You've waited long enough. Good, that's it."

The heels of his boots struggled to find purchase in the floorboards, his body going taunt as he got closer and closer. His heart was hammering and Lucifer was surrounding him, he could feel the familiar vibration of his Grace. Nick's very soul called out for it in reply.

"Yes, just like that." Lucifer said, urging him nearer to his climax.

He was teetering on the edge of release when finally,  _ finally _ Lucifer told him to "Say it, Nick. Say the word."

His answer came at breakneck speed and with it he was shooting cum onto his stomach and every molecule of his being was filling with the infernal might of his archangel. It was Lucifer who moved his hand to swipe down his torso to collect a streak of it as Nick struggled to catch his breath, collapsed and panting on the floor. It was his tongue that dutifully licked his fingers clean.


End file.
